


Offering

by Lisbeth_laufeyson



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Gods of the Arena
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:28:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24866083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisbeth_laufeyson/pseuds/Lisbeth_laufeyson
Summary: Barca is suffering after the loss of his lover, Auctus, at the hands of Crixus in the arena, and Crixus is desperate to help the man find himself again.
Relationships: barca/Crixus
Comments: 23
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the lateness of this. I struggled to get it down. Please with it now though :)
> 
> For CrixusFan, who I am unable to tag. Hope you like it :)

In the searing heat, his own mouth parched like the sand beneath his feet, Crixus viewed Barca with concern. The beast of Carthage had lost his bite, his grip on his spear was weak, and yet he faced Crixus all the same, ready to spar.

Barca was suffering. On the face of it he seemed fine, but the ones who cared to watch closely saw the slowing of his reactions while fighting, what little food he ate, and those who slept close to his cell whispered of hearing footsteps all night as Barca paced around.

It was over in four moves, with Crixus easily knocking the bigger, strong man to the ground. He ignored the laughs of the others and offered his hand to pull Barca to his feet. Barca scowled and ignored the help, rolling to his hands and knees and pushing himself up. He stumbled. Crixus caught him. Barca shoved him so hard Crixus hit the ground and all the wind was forced from his lungs.

“Fucking Gauls,” he snapped. Though still a little unsteady on his feet he strode with head held high towards the water barrels.

Doctore did not correct him. He watched him with carefully veiled concern but let the man drink and rest when all others would have felt the whip upon their back. When Barca rejoined the sparring Crixus installed himself as his partner, fearing the others would take the lenient treatment he had received out on him.

Later, when they sat to consume their rations. Crixus kept a close watch on the other gladiator.

“You must eat,” Crixus quietly urged.

“Do you not see food passing lips?” As if to prove a point, Barca spooned a portion of the porridge into his mouth and immediately spat it out. Some of the other gladiators laughed.

“Have you lost fucking mind?!” Crixus roared. “You deny a man food when he is already bereft of nourishment?”

Barca shoved his way passed him and swung his fist at the leader of the gang of laughing gladiators. His nose burst on contact. The others dived in, spurring Barca's allies to join. Crixus fought wildly, tearing at flesh and hair as he sought to keep the worst of the blows from Barca.

Doctore's whip cracked through the air and licked over their backs. “Are you fucking beasts with no control! Cease this madness!”

The gladiators slowly untangled from one another. Doctore surveyed them all, his eyes passing over each and staring to the depths of their souls. “Clearly I have been labored with simpletons who cannot fathom what discipline means! Harsher lessons than what you have already endured are needed.” He cracked the whip in the air. “All of you, to the sand. You will train as you did when you first arrived here until I command you to cease.”

The few voices, mostly from the seasoned gladiators, that did rise in objection were quickly silenced by a crack of the whip. They all filed out into the hot sun to begin training once more.

Hours later, when the sun that had cracked their skin had gone down, the gladiators sat in the wash house trying to soothe their bodies of the pains of the day. Tension still hung in the air. Teeth were bared. But like wary dogs the men merely snarled or glared without coming to blows.

Crixus hung back long after his water ration was gone, his eyes on Barca. Barca sat far away from everyone, his head down, long braids obscuring his face. Only when the room was empty did Crixus dare to approach.

“Unburden yourself, brother,” he said softly. “And become the man we knew once more.”

“Apologies. I had not known my grief was such an inconvenience,” Barca snapped without looking up.

Crixus sat down by his side. “I have already offered my apologies for my hand in your pain and yet you are wasting away. You take no food, you pace incessantly at night. If you step into the arena like this you will die.”

“Perhaps that would not be such a bad thing,” Barca whispered.

Crixus snorted a laugh in spite of himself. “You would throw life and glory away for one man?”

“He was not just one man!” Barca got to his feet and walked towards the doorway.

“The beast of Carthage felled not by blade but by a broken heart,” he mocked. “I would laugh if it wasn't so fucking pitiful.”

Barca stepped close forcing Crixus to look up at him. “You overstep and speak of things of what you have no understanding. Look at where you are.” He gestured to the room at large. “Wouldn't finding some comfort in this fucking shit pit be the most precious thing in the world?”

Crixus struggled to form words and, instead, looked up at Barca, his eyebrows knitted in confusion.

Barca laughed softly. “In this place which we were both sold to against our will. Where we train under the scorching sun with dull blades at our front and a whip at our back. Where they feed us meager rations that would barely sustain men half our sizes and ration our water to the point that some men have fallen and never gotten back up for lack of it. Here, in this place of cruelty and rage, I found a balm for my beaten and bruised body. A gentleness made even sweeter because of its rarity.” he stepped forward, forcing Crixus to back up a step. “There is no hate in me for you. You took his life but he would have taken yours if your blade had not struck home first, but that does not change the fact that your blade took him from me. With one strike my one solace in this place was gone. Do not deny me tears and grief because of your guilt.” His expression softened suddenly and a small smile tugged at his lips. “I will return to my former self eventually. A cruel, mocking, beast, just as this place would have us all molded to.”

Crixus let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding as Barca turned from him. “Would that I could give you some small part of the peace he gave you!” he shouted before his mind caught up with his words.

Barca stopped in the doorway and slowly turned. “You would warm my bed?”

Crixus nodded.

Barca sneered. “You would kiss me, touch me, become place for me to bury cock over and over again and when I'm done, have my seed seep from you in reminder of my ownership of you?”

Crixus was slower to answer this time, digesting the images Barca's words threw into his mind. “I would, and I would honor the experience.”

Silence hung between them. Suddenly, Barca laughed. “Do not mock me, fucking Gaul. You know nothing about the things your promise.”

Crixus quickly crossed the wash house and grabbed Barca's arms before he could turn again. “Perhaps I could not be all things he was to you, but I could be warmth in the night. I could offer sweet word and soft kisses upon sun scalded brow.”

“You speak truth?” Barca whispered.

“Rarely do I not.” To prove his point he stretched up and pressed his lips to Barca's.

It was as if kissing a statue of warm marble. Crixus stepped back and avoided Barca's gaze.

“You are a fool-” Barca spat - “if you believe you are any replacement for Auctus.

He left. Crixus followed with a cacophony in his head arguing against what he was doing. But there was one voice, quiet yet strong, that compelled him to stay the course. He found Barca sitting on his sleeping pallet with his head in his hands. Crixus sat with him and gently placed his hand on his back.

“It was not my intention to offend,” Crixus whispered. “I seek only to repair some of the damage caused.” He knelt behind Barca, rested his chin upon his shoulder and encircled his waist with both arms. “Do not deny yourself these small measures of comfort when you need it most.”

Barca relaxed and leaned back against him. Tears trickled down his face. “It does soothe my heart to feel such warmth once more.”

“Then allow me to give you this small measure of solace,” Crixus said softly and nuzzled his cheek

At first there was no reaction, but after a moment Barca took Crixus' hand and slid it from around his waist. Crixus relaxed his arm, giving control over to Barca, and gasped as his hand brushed over Barca's cock. He let Barca manage all his movements, splaying his fingers and wrapping them around his rapidly hardening flesh while still enclosed in Barca's large hand. He watched over Barca's shoulder and continued the gentle strokes even when Barca's hand left his.

The ludus was silent. All Crixus could hear was their breathing and the soft wet sound of his hand stroking Barca's cock. He watched, fascinated, as Barca's foreskin pulled back under his hand, exposing the slick, shining head before sliding back. His own cock hardened.

Barca's head rolled back onto Crixus' shoulder and he reached up, tangling his hand in Crixus' messy hair. He fidgeted, leaning back further, parting his legs, his free hand smoothing over his own skin.

“What do you need?” Crixus purred in his ear.

“More,” Barca sighed. His eyes were tightly closed but his face was clear of concern. He wriggled around a bit more, bringing his feet up onto the bed. “Lay down beside me.” 

Crixus moved to let Barca stretch out on the pallet before lying beside him. Barca's eyes were closed once more, he probably wasn't seeing Crixus is at all, but at least his tears had dried and his mind was on other things. Crixus closed his hand around Barca's cock once more and picked up the pace. 

Barca raised his knees, planted his feet on the pallet, and drew two of his own fingers into his mouth. He reached down between his raised knees, passed his balls, and moaned as he pushed the tip of his finger inside himself. 

Crixus couldn't take his eyes off Barca as he drew himself up on one elbow and reached deeper. His jaw was slack, his eyes still closed, perhaps seeing more comforting images than Crixus by his side could offer. Crixus rolled his hips, rubbing his hard cock against Barca's hip. His bed-mate seemed oblivious.

With a loud cry, Barca arched off the bed. Precum seeped from him, dripping over Crixus' hand and down onto his muscular stomach. His other hand, the one closest to Crixus, reached out blindly, falling over his hips and chest until he found purchase on his shoulder.

Crixus bit back a moan as Barca's nails sunk into his flesh. He risked a look down, watching as Barca's fingers dived deep into the other mans body and coaxed forth gasps and whines, noises he had never heard Barca make before. An idea came upon on him and, slowly, tentatively, he lowered his head until he was low enough to draw Barca's cock into his mouth. The taste of the precum was odd on his tongue, but not enough for him to pull away. Not really knowing to proceed he kept his mouth still around the head of Barca's cock and continued to move his hand.

Barca bucked up, his throbbing flesh sliding deeper into Crixus' mouth. His hand wound its way into Crixus' hair again and he tangled his fingers deep into the dark locks. His moans were louder. Surely the whole ludus could hear them now, but Barca clearly didn't care and Crixus, who's own body was thrumming with the heat of passion, could not find it in him to care either.

With a deep intake of breath Barca's body tensed. Crixus had barely any time to register the change before hot cum hit the back of his throat. He pulled back in shock only to be hit in the face by another spurt. He moved back out of range but continued to pump Barca's cock until the man lay panting and trembling upon the pallet. Crixus slowly moved his hand away and sat up, unsure whether to stay or to linger.

Barca's hand fell upon his shoulder. “Stay, allow me to return the favor.” he looked down at Crixus' crotch.

“It is unnecessary,” Crixus smiled. “But I would stay with you a moment longer, if you desire?”

Barca worried his lip in his teeth. “Your company would be most welcome.” He gently wiped Crixus' face. “Apologies. I lost myself for a moment.”

Crixus caught his hand and brought it to his lips. “It was my intention.” He pressed gentle kisses to Barca's knuckles. “I offer my company until sun up if it would please you?”

“It is the quiet of the night that is the hardest,” Barca admitted. “The silence where once his snoring was.”

Crixus pressed his forehead to Barca's. “Then I shall disturb your sleep in his absence.”

“Sleep, yes,” Barca smiled. He trailed the tip of his finger up the underside of Crixus' cock, which was still hard. “But first, allow me to pay back this kindness.”

Barca bent low and enveloped Crixus' cock in the hot, wet heat of his mouth. Crixus' eyes drifted closed. He buried his hand deep in Barca's braids, coiling them around his fingers, and basked in the pleasure thrumming through his body.


	2. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crixus wakes in the arms of a man he had not even counted as a friend the morning before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guy asked for it and you (eventually) got it :) I hope its worth the wait.

Comfort was something the gladiators did not experience a lot, but, sometimes, they would awake having found themselves the best position to sleep in and spend a few moments in bliss. Occasionally, due to the close sleeping positions of the lower level gladiators, they awoke with anothers warm against them and occasionally an arm casually tossed over the waist in brotherly affection, and this was how Crixus had awoken. 

The sleeping cell was dark still, the ludus silent save for the slumbering noises from the other gladiators. The man at his back continued to sleep on, his chest moving in even, heavy breaths. Crixus lay his arm over his and meshed their fingers together over his stomach. It was something he would never do with the others. Even among those with strong friendships there was never an admittance of how they occasionally sought comfort in the night though it was never more than a loose hug. With Barca it was different. They had shared something the night previous and it changed everything.

A soft sigh fell from Barca's lips and he moved closer. His chest pressed tightly to Crixus' back and he draped his lower leg over Crixus', surrounding the shorter man. Crixus turned as much as he could without dislodging the weak embrace. Barca slowly opened an eye, closed it, and smiled.

“Apologies,” Crixus whispered as he lay back down. “I did not wish to wake you.”

“You did not disturb me,” Barca mumbled. He rose up a little and pressed kisses to Crixus' neck. “Though this is not a sight I would mind being woken up for.”

Barca's fingers slipped gently under Crixus' head and turned him just enough to kiss him. They parted only when the muscles in Crixus' neck started to complain. Barca's lips fell against his cheeks and neck, even along the back of his shoulders. Crixus purred softly and reached back to place his hand on Barca's thigh. The same warmth and excitement that had flooded him last night came back and his cock began to respond. From what Crixus could feel, Barca was in a similar state.

“Do you still offer yourself to me?” Barca murmured into his ear. He rolled his hips and his cock slid over Crixus' backside.

Offer? Hadn't he already proven such a thing by taking Barca's cock in his mouth, kissing him, stroking his hard flesh and offering gentle touch until they had both fallen into a boneless, satisfied sleep? Ah, but there was one more part of the offer, wasn't there, at least by the way Barca had framed it. Crixus thought for a moment. He knew what was being asked of him, though his only experience of it was sometimes overhearing Barca and Auctus.

“I am yours to command,” Crixus whispered back. What was there to lose?

They kissed again and their tongues vied for dominance. Barca rolled his hips in slow, languid motions and Crixus moved back to meet him, gripping Barca's thigh for leverage. With gentle movements, Barca coaxed Crixus' leg up until his knee was level with his stomach. Eventually, Barca parted from the kiss and drew two fingers into his mouth. Covering Crixus' mouth with his own once more, he reached down between them and slowly pushed the tip of his finger inside him.

It was not a pain as such but more uncomfortable than Crixus had expected. He parted from the kiss and laid his head upon his bent arm. His other hand still gripped Barca's thigh, squeezing and releasing in time with the movement of Barca's finger. Barca nibbled along the length of his neck and nuzzled against his skin. A soft sigh escaped his lips and the warm air brushed Crixus' neck like a caress.

Another finger slid in beside the first. Crixus whined through his teeth and arched his back. Barca stopped but the little kisses carried on, falling over his neck and shoulders then down onto his cheeks as Barca leaned over him.

“Touch yourself,” Barca whispered in his ear. “And if it is still uncomfortable we will stop.”

“We can't” Crixus mumbled. “Please...” He left the request hanging as his hand wrapped around his half hard cock. He stretched back, searching for Barca's lips and anchoring kiss and moaned into his lovers mouth when he got it. 

Barca's arm slid around his neck from underneath. Crixus found his hand with his and gripped it tight. With his other hand, he slowly began to stroke himself. Barca's fingers moved once more to the same languid pace as his strokes.

What little pain Crixus had felt melted away and left behind a pleasurable yet alien sensation. Barca's cock poked into his lower back as his hips rolled and left behind the sticky wetness of precum. Crixus broke their kiss.

“Take me,” he mumbled against Barca's lips. “But may I make a request?”

“You may?” Barca purred and nipped at his neck.

“I wish to stay like this.” He pulled Barca's arm tighter around his neck. “Wrapped in your arms, with your lips within easy reach.”

Barca smiled. “That is a request I will gratefully fulfill.”

Slowly, his fingers slid from Crixus' body. Crixus looked over his shoulder, watching as Barca spat in his palm a few times then spread the saliva over his cock. He turned back around and closed his eyes. The first touch of Barca's cock forced him to tense up but he quickly relaxed with the help of Barca's soft kisses. He reached behind them both and pulled Barca closer, urging him on, begging him to not let his initial reaction put him off. This time, he let out a slow breath as the head of Barca's cock pressed against his hole and, at an achingly slow pace, slid inside him.

Several things fired through Crixus' mind all at once, mostly too quick for him to acknowledge fully. The pain was the first thing he noticed. Something akin to a strained muscle yet altogether different at the same time. The second was a thought that made his breath catch in his throat at the sheer strangeness of it. Barca, a man he hadn't even counted as a friend the day before, was inside him! Crixus whined through his teeth as the pain slowly ebbed away to a more pleasurable sensation and turned his head. Barca read him perfectly and leaned over to kiss him deeply.

Barca's hips rested flush against his backside. He wrapped Crixus up in his arms, holding him close and kissing him wherever he could reach. Without loosening his hug, he rolled his hips, sliding in and out of Crixus body in slow, fluid motions and driving soft moans from his lovers throat. 

Crixus clutched at Barca's arm, then his thigh, then reached back to tangle his fingers in his hair. Nowhere and yet everywhere seemed to be right all at once. Finally, he settled on gripping Barca's backside. He pulled him close, trying to force him to go faster and Barca obliged. His teeth found the soft curve between Crixus' neck and shoulder and he bit down.

A loud cry filled the damp air. Crixus slammed his hips back against Barca, reveling in the feeling of his body stretching and molding around his lovers cock. His nerves sang with ripples of pleasure. His cock throbbed and dripped precum onto the sleeping pallet. It was simultaneous, his wish for it never to end and his realization he could take no more.

He whined as Barca's large hand gripped his cock. The first pulse of orgasm tore through him like white hot fire and his back arched under the strength of it. He looked down through lust clouded eyes and watched, fascinated, as thick ropes of cum spilled over Barca's strong fingers. Wave after wave traveled through him, more than he had ever felt before, and at its height, when he feared he might die from the power of it, Barca's cock gave a warning throb before he came deep inside him.

All senses left Crixus. All he knew was the feel of Barca inside him, his strong arms encircling him, his teeth driven into that soft, sensitive spot between shoulder and neck. All he could hear was Barca's moan bleeding out over his skin and his own voice rising and falling outwith his control. Even when the heady highs had faded his body still thrummed with it like little aftershocks.

The kiss was lazy, sloppy. Too much tongue and the accidental clanging of teeth, which made them both laugh. Laughter turned to a hiss as Barca eased himself from Crixus body and left him with an odd, empty feeling, but Barca's arms returned around him once more. His warmth and gentle, nuzzling kisses soothing against pounding heart and ragged breathing.

“On reflection,” Crixus whispered once he could find his voice again. “I would gladly keep this promise to you again, whenever circumstance allowed.”

Barca smiled and placed a gentle kiss on Crixus' cheek. “Wait until day of training has concluded then see if you still feel the same.”

Crixus nuzzled his nose against his. “It will not change. I have found more passion in your arms than life has seen fit to bestow on me thus far.”

“Speak no more words while such passion still rides high in your blood,” Barca said. “It has a habit of loosing things from tongue you may not wish to have spoken.”

“I am not professing love for you like some simpering woman,” He kissed Barca softly on the lips. “I merely wished to express gratitude for time well spent.”

“Cease flapping of tongue,” Barca grinned. “And grab what little sleep we are afforded this day. Trust me, you will be glad of it.”

Crixus laughed softly, but heeded Barca's words. He snuggled in close, pressing his back to Barca's chest and rested his arm over Barca's where it fell over his stomach. With Barca's curled up as tight to him as possible, Crixus relaxed into a deep, dreamless, sleep.


End file.
